


Gasping

by its_mike_kapufty



Series: Rhink Ficlets [10]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Arguing, College, Embarrassment, Erections, M/M, Non-Consensual Tickling, Tickle Fights, Tickling, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_mike_kapufty/pseuds/its_mike_kapufty
Summary: When Rhett tries something new, it's enough to dissolve Link's bad mood. It'smorethan enough.





	Gasping

**Author's Note:**

> Incredibly self-indulgent kink ficlet (don't @ me) 'cause it's my birthday tomorrow.  
> I didn't know how to rate this lmao.

The muted blue of the humming television illuminated the dorm room and cast uneven shadows of the boys onto their bunk bed. They sat in the floor, side by side, each to their own little pile of pillows and blankets that softened the nip of the chilly tile beneath. A cacophony of explosions and grunts complemented the agitated tapping of fingers on buttons as Rhett’s fighter--a giant rooster with hulking biceps--knocked out Link’s electric crocodile for a third time.

“If we both chose to play as Bruisester, would it be a cockfight?” Rhett grinned. He watched as Link stretched onto his belly and dropped the controller in a rough clatter.

“Bad joke.”

“You’re just sore ‘cause you keep losin’,” scoffed Rhett, gesturing to the character select screen’s scoreboard. 6-2.

 _“No,_ it’s a bad joke ‘cause that’s the literal definition of cockfight: two roosters, fighting. What, you think it’s word for dick battles or something?” Link glanced back at Rhett, pulling a face. _Weirdo_.

“C’mon,” Rhett wiggled his controller. “One more round. I’ll even change my guy, if you want. You should really quit choosin’ Shockodile though. He sucks.”

“Don’t tell me how to play,” Link grumbled. He relented to one more fight. Without giving it any thought he chose a buff elephant wearing a skull outfit, aptly named _Skelephant._

Rhett balked. “He’s even worse than Shockodile! You ain’t even tryin’.”

“Will you quit givin’ me shit?” Link snapped. “This stopped being fun when you pulled _I’m dead_ in the middle of round three. I _had_ that round, and you knew it! You sabotaged me.”

“I told you man, the game was controlling _me,”_ Rhett whispered. When Link didn’t respond, he held it up to his ear like a phone. “What’s that, game? You want me to kick Link’s ass?”

“You’re not funny, Rhett.” With a final button press, the match started, an obnoxious announcer giving the countdown. At zero, Skelephant moved over to Bruisester and hit him a few times, but Rhett’s character didn’t move.

Link’s brow furrowed and he twisted to look at Rhett. He was simply sitting there, tired, all trace of humor gone from his face.

Heaving a deep sigh, Rhett paused the game and set his controller on top of the console. “This is about Valerie, isn’t it?”

“What? No,” Link replied hotly. He banged his own controller against the floor in impatience. “C’mon. Let’s do this.”

“Link, stop a second. Are you _really_ mad that she called me funny at lunch today?” Rhett leaned forward, trying to make eye contact, but Link was scowling at the floor. “I wasn’t hitting on her or nothin’, man. I wouldn’t do that. I know how much you like her. I just… cracked a joke I woulda made around anyone, and she just so happened to have lost it.”

Rhett waited, knowing Link well enough to expect a moment of thought followed by a defeated apology. But he seemed determined to be in a bad mood--and by extension, was souring Rhett’s.

“And not to point it out or anything,” Rhett drawled, leaning back on his palms, “but I _know_ you think I’m funny. A lifetime of jokes proves that. Don’t have to tear me down just 'cause you’re jealous.”

“You’re not as funny as you _think_ you are,” spat Link at his shoulder.

“Bullshit. I make you laugh all the time. Every single day.”

“Not today.”

Rhett pressed his lips together hard enough to turn them white and glared at the back of his roommate’s shaggy head. Without any outlet, his irritation led his gaze, following how Link’s shirt tented in between his shoulder blades. How his elbows rested on the cushioned floor. The exposed strip of pale back peeking between his tee and his sweatpants.

“You say that like it’s too late,” Rhett intoned, and Link was readying another withering comeback when the older one’s fingers dug into his sides.

Link gave a shrill gasp and twisted onto his side, looking incensed enough to strangle Rhett. “Ow! What the hell--”

Rhett did it again. Scooting forward on his knees and finding Link’s ribs, he wiggled his fingers into the soft flesh there. The thin cotton shirt did nothing to protect Link.

He flailed, a kick glancing off Rhett’s thigh. “What’re you doing?! Stop!”

“No.” Another scoot forward and he was hovering over Link, in between his legs, and Link was helpless to stop the next grabby assault. He bore down, fingers prodding and dancing and tickling every inch of Link’s sides from his hips to his armpits. It didn’t take long for Link’s fury to melt into giggles--and soon after, gasping hoots of laughter.

“Y-You asshole!” Link cried in between peals. A giant smile plastered to his face as he tried his best to squirm away, losing his glasses in the process.

With a self-satisfied smirk Rhett shifted, bringing a knee down on his chest, pinning him to the pillows. “You’re laughin’ for me now, aren’tcha?!”

“Rhett, Rhett seriously,” Link wheezed, doing his best to fend off the assault, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. Nothing worked; Rhett was stronger, so any attempt to lock his arms down against his sides was pushed away easily, and Rhett continued as if he weren’t struggling at all.

“I might pee myself!!” Link shrieked in warning, hoping the deterrent would be enough.

Rhett paused to cock an eyebrow at him, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You peed before we started playing. You don’t have to pee.” The statement was barely enough time for Link to come back to reality before Rhett continued.

Link writhed underneath of him, bucking and gasping and trying to find purchase on Rhett’s upper arms--anything to stop the onslaught of touches and exploring fingers. When a tear slipped down his cheek, Rhett beamed victoriously and brushed his fingers against Link’s neck. The brunette recoiled from the new breed of tickle, squawking in alarm.

“Can you at least get your knee offa me?! _Gosh,_ ” yelled Link, letting his head fall back limp against a pillow, exhausted.

“Fine, but I get to do this instead,” Rhett warned, retracting his knee and immediately flopping down on top of Link. “I’m dead,” he insisted for the second time that night. Too quickly his fingers were back at it, and Link all but screamed in panic as it resumed.

 _“Dead people can’t tickle!”_ he wailed, cackling and thrashing and trying in vain to foist Rhett off of him. When that didn’t work, he did his best to return the attack. It worked a little--Rhett shifted and laughed a few times--but it was nowhere near as effective as his ministrations were on Link. “Please stop, Rhett, please,” Link resorted to begging, unable to replace the air being crushed from his lungs. “I can’t breathe!”

“Say you’re sorry!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Say I’m funny!”

“Tickling isn’t even--”

_“Neal!”_

“You’re funny!”

Satisfied, Rhett propped himself up and stared down at Link, giving him just enough space.

Link stared up past Rhett’s head, eyes unfocused, chest heaving and lips parted. After a few lungfuls, he shifted his gaze to look at Rhett above him, dreamy and shocked. “You could’ve killed me,” he whispered.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Rhett chuckled. “I wouldn’t let you die like that. Didn’t know you were so ticklish, though.”

“Me neither,” supplied Link in wonder, running a hand over his chin. “I don’t think we’ve ever…” He stopped, holding eye contact. Gradually he reddened, from cheeks to ears, and he shut his gaping mouth and swallowed.

Rhett lifted himself up a bit further. “Link? Y’okay, bud?”

“Yeah. I’m, uh…” he swallowed a second time, blinking rapidly and looking back to the ceiling. “Rhett, our--our _pelvises.”_

Rhett glanced down at their bodies, still pressed together. That alone wasn’t enough to turn his own neck hot; it was the sudden, visceral realization that Link was _hard,_ his cock pressing needy against Rhett’s through a meager two layers of fabric. Rhett froze, body immobile but mind racing as he tried to puzzle together what the hell that _meant._

“C-Can you get off--get up now, please?” Link’s voice cracked on the last word.

“Are you… do you _like_ being tickled?” asked Rhett softly, unmoving.

“No! I mean, no. But… I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s not about you, please don’t think it’s about you. I don’t _think_ it’s about you,” Link babbled, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Rhett, please, I’m sorry, I don’t know--”

The thought died when Rhett brought a gentle hand up to run the length of Link’s side--not fervent, to draw more cries of surprise. Caressing, as if to smooth down ruffled feathers. It coaxed Link to drop his arms above his head, unable to stop the hushed, trickling moan that left his lips.

There was a definitive twitch between them--one that hadn’t come from Link.

“Can I tickle you again sometime, bo?” asked Rhett, low and imploring. His dark eyes roamed Link’s flushed face.

Link swallowed a third time, holding the contact. He nodded, blinked hard several times.

“If y-you want? Yeah.”

 


End file.
